Tuesday, October 27, 2009

What a crock o' sh*t

cancer 1 chemo 0

However you look at it today was pants. The tumours are still alive. The chemo has had the effect of reducing their size and probably slowing their progress but it hasn't killed them. A*se biscuits.

So the next step is to have a consultation with the radiographer and see if radio therapy is possible. I say possible because they dropped a showbiz bombshell today, radio therapy may not be possible if it will cause too much damage to the lungs. So something that had been in the back of my mind a bit of a reserve measure but pretty much a keeper has now disintegrated into a possibility. Tops.

So the roller coaster continues to duck and dive, from the high of the last couple of weeks when I've felt brilliant to today when we had to tell the girls that it's not worked as we'd hoped. I had kept it together until then, it's difficult sharing your emotions with your wife when there's standing room only on the bus.........

I nearly cried on the drive over to mum and dads, how do you phrase it, what do you say, do you say anything at all? Our girls are amazing and are product of love, honesty and laughter. They have been so strong through this, they laugh and chat and take the mickey out of my grey/white hairs. They beat me up and they wind me up but they are so full of life and their souls are so innocent that they shouldn't have to have crappy news. But the honesty has to keep going and so on the floor of mum and dad's kitchen we had a family cry. Georgia understands more than Carys but she also bottles more up so it's so important that we keep her fully informed. There's been times when she's overheard something and then worried herself about it. So it was so important to tell her the truth.

The treatment hasn't worked and now I have to have some more.

The more it's said the more it sinks in to my skull so it was a little easier explaining to mum and dad. I also put in the details about the radiotherapy and the ifs, buts and maybes surrounding it.

I have an appointment on Thursday to see the radiographer. I asked if it could be another day as I'd booked a brush cutter to get started on the allotment with Rich, a friend with whom we're sharing an allotment. My consultant still remembers me shifting a ton of pea gravel the day before my first chemo so wonders if I'm at all sane..........answers on a postcard to that one.

All this is sh*t but the worst thing is the look in Wendy's eyes. The disappointment and the fear of seeing me go through something else, another treatment with unknown side effects. The wonder of whether the next treatment works or not. For me it's easy, I go they tell me what to do, they pump drugs into me or fry me or whatever is coming next and I go home and get looked after by my amazing family. But Wendy is the one the only one who sees everything I go through. She's the only one who really knows me as I am now and how to help or cheer up this lump of hair and gristle. But who helps her? (Wendy says lots of people!) I wish she didn't have to go through this. Not many options though so I'll stop being moody and crap and get on with getting on.

See what Thursday brings.

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